


Roy Harper

by brejamison



Series: Dick Grayson Must Die [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Asphyxiation, Blood, Cave-In, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He's Grumpy >:(, Hurt Dick Grayson, Mentioned Lian Harper, Protective Roy Harper, Roy curses a lot, They have HISTORY, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brejamison/pseuds/brejamison
Summary: In which Dick is forced to reconcile with an old friend as he tries not to suffocate to death.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Roy Harper
Series: Dick Grayson Must Die [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670542
Comments: 5
Kudos: 158





	Roy Harper

Dick rounded a corner, slamming himself against rubble at his back. He looked up to find Roy taking cover a few feet away. "You good?" Nightwing asked, nodding at the archer's bleeding shoulder. 

He shrugged. "I will be." They ducked as a mix of bullets and lasers exploded above them, eating away at their makeshift shelters. 

"Look like you're running out of arrows," Dick mentioned, daring to peek around the edge and get a look at their attackers. A few more heroes rallied forward, rushing past them as they forced the guards back a few yards. Dick and Roy let them pass, taking a moment to recollect their breath. 

"Looks to me like you're out of practice," the archer snapped back, glaring as his shoulder throbbed. 

Dick frowned at him, jaw working. He watched as the other hero tore a piece of his costume loose, trying to tie off the bleeding. As skillful an archer as the man was, tying a tourniquet around one arm with one hand would be a difficult feat for anybody. Dick checked the battle again, waiting for a lull, then barreled forward. He rolled along the top of Roy's cover, landing gracefully beside him. 

The archer was looking at him, rolling his eyes. "Show off." He hissed suddenly as his hand slipped, fingers sore and tired from cocking and releasing arrows for the better part of the last five hours. Not that he was alone in his pain; the squad of heroes sent to investigate the castle grounds were horribly outnumbered and, in a lot of cases, outgunned. Which was surprising considering they were expecting a few shady men in nice suits and had instead been greeted by a well-armed and better-trained militia. 

Dick shuffled forward, staying low. "Let me help with that," he offered. 

Roy chewed it over for a minute, but another barrage and the scream of a downed hero made up his mind for him. "Fine," he conceded grumpily, shifting so Dick could get to the wound. "They need me out there." 

Dick fingered the hole lightly and Roy flinched in pain. A lot of pain. Too much pain for a simple bullet hole. Frowning, Nightwing retrieved a small flashlight from his belt and tore his gloves off. The air around them was thick was dust, choking out the light that was coming in from the large, ornate windows of the hallway, making it utterly useless for a medical inspection. 

"What're you doing?" Roy wondered, concern leaking into his usually cool tone. That was a lot of pretense to wrap a wound. 

"I think..." Dick used the light to inspect the hole carefully, probing it gently with his fingers. "You may have a tag-along in there." 

"A bug?" 

He nodded minutely. "Or something. Could be shrapnel."

"Shit!" Roy cursed, slamming his head against the rubble behind them. An overturned table was held in place by cobblestones that had previously been a part of the exterior wall. Thanks to a blast that brought down half the hallway, though, the wall now had a gaping hole in it, leaving piles of ancient bricks and stones all over the fine carpet. "A fucking bug. That's just great," he grumbled, teeth clenched against the pain of Dick's gentle fingers around his wound. 

"Could be shrapnel," Nightwing repeated calmly. Too bad he didn't have any proper medical supplies. And too bad all the heroes with restorative powers were occupied somewhere else. This castle was just way too big - not that Dick had had a problem navigating it (he grew up in the Gotham version of one himself, after all) - but the thick stone walls and expansive design made radio contact with anyone else nearly impossible and they didn't have time to hope a medic would stumble upon them. 

"This is gonna hurt," he warned, giving Roy just enough time to be confused before he plunged a finger into the hole, digging around with his nail. 

"...Fuck!" Roy gasped, body tense. His leg kicked out, needing a release from the agony, and he pounded his boot heel into the red carpet. 

Dick made a face, one hand pressed to the archer's chest to keep him in place as he searched around. He could almost feel it, his fingertip scraping against something that was neither flesh nor bone. He used his other hand to pinch at the surrounding tissue, guiding the metal to his finger. "Got it," he breathed, pulling out and letting the shrapnel clattered wetly to the floor. 

Roy grunted, hissing and trying to steady his breathing. Supposing he wasn't going to get a thank you - not that he expected one from the archer anyway - Dick finally bandaged the arm, tying it tightly. "Unless you got a crossbow on you somewhere, you should head back to the front door." 

"Fuck that..." Roy panted, shoving Dick away and pulling himself off the rubble. "I can do this." 

"Yes, I know, but-" 

"Oh _now_ you value me as a superhero," he spit back. "What a far cry from what you thought of me three years ago." 

Dick rolled his eyes, raising his hands. "Roy, what you heard is not what I said-" 

"You didn't have to _say_ it, Grayson. You didn't have to say anything. I knew what you meant. Still do." 

"Roy, there were... circumstances and things out of my control." 

The archer snorted, turning away. "Whatever, man. Nice to know those kids of yours are more important than I ever was." 

Dick looked away. First of all, how many damn League members knew about the new Titans and would it be a problem in the future? And second of all, of _course_ they were more important than Roy was. Roy was a good ally, but more a friend of a friend than someone Dick wanted to invite to the Titans. Hell, he hadn't even invited Wally and Donna had urged him repeatedly to do so. And lastly, now _really_ wasn't the time for this because that was three fucking years ago and, also, they were getting shot at by private security who were funded by the same person who owned a literal freaking castle. 

Speaking of getting shot at... It had been awfully quiet in this hallway. Nightwing pocketed his flashlight and peeked over the rubble, checking for enemies. Or heroes. Or the maid. Anybody, really, who could tell them what was going on. He stood and Roy coolly disguised his panic at his ex-friend almost got himself _shot._

But no shots came. 

"They fall back?" the archer wondered, rolling to his feet and standing unsteadily beside Dick. The taller man frowned in thought, quietly and gracefully (goddamn it all if Roy didn't love to see him work) ascending the stone pile. 

"Guess so," he replied quietly, sneaking forward. Roy grabbed his red baseball cap from the ground, slamming it on as he followed closely. The hallway opened to a large office, which was also deserted. A toppled suit of armor lay in one corner, resting upon a bed of knocked over books. The other corner boasted a set of chairs and a large wooden desk, intricately carved, and also full of bullet holes as it lay on its side. Whoever had been using it for cover, though, had long since disappeared. 

"Fuck my ears hurt," Roy mumbled, palm pressed to one. Dick shrugged quietly. Well, yeah, getting blown up would do that to a body. 

"Check the radio," he ordered, Roy rolling his eyes. 

_"You_ check the radio," he sneered. Dick didn't bother with a retort, knowing full well that Roy was going to do it anyway. He was just like his mentor in that; all archers seemed to have this knee-jerk response to any kind of order, no matter what it was or who was giving it. They would gripe and complain but ultimately do it and - like everything else they did - would do it thoroughly and completely. A testy but reliable bunch, the lot of them. 

Dick ventured deeper into the room. There was a distant thud of another explosion from somewhere else in the castle, dust raining down from the tall ceiling. But the walls stood undeterred, good old ancient cobblestone. 

"Nothing, just static," Roy informed. "They must have all moved deeper inside." 

Nightwing ran a finger along the desk as Roy stepped on something that _creaked._ Dick twirled around, yelling at the archer to freeze. 

He did. "What?" he hissed quietly, unsure if he had missed the noise beyond the incessant ringing in his ears.

"The floor," Dick informed, taking a hesitant step forward. Unlike old reliable stone and mortar, castle floors were notorious for warping and becoming creaky as all hell as they aged under the weight of holding up heavy stone walls. And he should know; he had charted a landmine map of the loudest creaks and groans to avoid when trying to sneak out of the manor. Not that he ever really got away with anything in those early days - rebellion had just come naturally to him. 

It still did, if he was being honest.

Roy frowned at him. "The floor? What's wrong with the fucking-" 

Suddenly, the floor gave out, plummeting the heroes and the room's contents through the dusty, mucky void. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

They landed in a sub-level, the ground carpeted with dust and the air tasting like it hadn't seen sunlight in eons. Roy managed to avoid landing on his bad shoulder and coughed hoarsely, the stale air choking his surprised lungs. He sat up, using the dim light from the hole in the ceiling to inspect the dark cavern. It looked like the floor had collapsed like a trap door, most of the rubble and debris being flung outward to the corners and avoiding the center he was in. Lucky him, the worst he had to deal with was some loose ye olde floorboards. 

Once the stones and wood settled, though, he heard faint wheezing, sounding very much like someone pinned under a very heavy pile of something. Probably stones and wood if he had to take a guess. Rivalry and bitterness thrown aside, Roy scrambled to his feet, looking the general direction of the noise. "Dick?" he called, waiting impatiently for his eyes to adjust. 

"...here," Dick wheezed back, coughing lightly. Roy clambered to him, tripping over more than one warped floorboard. Eventually, he spotted Dick in the darkness. Well, what little of him he could see of him beyond all the debris and dust and was that the _desk_ from upstairs? The desk that was _huge_ and probably weighed several hundred pounds? 

"The fuck did you do?" he asked, lowering to his knees by Dick's free arm. The archer grabbed a piece of stone and rolled it off, uncovering Nightwing's head and some of his neck. He was more or less on his back, cushioned by a bed of pointed rocks and books. The desk and more jagged stones covered him almost up to his chin. One arm was stretched above his head and looked relatively unscathed, aside from the typical scrapes and gashes - all of which he deserved because the idiot hadn't put his goddamn _gloves_ back on after helping excavate Roy's bullet hole. 

"Shit, dude. Can you _breathe_ under there?" he wondered, inspecting the pile of rubble crushing Dick's chest. 

Dick made a face, weak coughs playing with his cheeks. "Not really," he admitted, wincing and pushing his head to one side. 

Roy shoved at a particularly large stone and it refused to shift even slightly. "Yeah, no shit you can't. Got probably four hundred pounds of shit on you," he explained. A wooden beam had the courtesy to fall away under his might, sending a small avalanche of debris rolling to the floor. 

Dick gasped, sucking in some more sweet, sweet air as a good half of the weight on top of him thudded away. Roy shooed the rest of the pebbles and ruined books to the side easily. Keeping himself busy kept him from worriedly losing his mind. More or less. Kind of. Okay, not really.

"You know, what you heard..." Dick muttered quietly. "It wasn't what I actually said."

"Man, shut the hell up," the archer grunted. "I am not having this conversation with you right now." Dick fell silent and Roy definitely panicked for a second as the lack of talking fell over the room.

Soon enough, everything else was cleared away and all that remained on top of Dick was the desk, laying on him upside down because of course it was. 

"One... one of the floorboards," he gulped, waving his free arm in the general direction of the center of the room. "Use it as a wedge to lift the desk." 

Roy was quickly on his feet, stomping to the pile of boards. "No shit, Sherlock," he mumbled tersely. "Batman teach you that one? Right after the lesson of get rid of your friends if you can't exploit them?" 

Dick sighed, dropping his head back. The archer kept saying he didn't want to have this conversation and yet kept trying to have this conversation. "Look, Roy, I already tried to explain what happened-" 

"I don't want to hear it," Roy interrupted, kicking a rejected board away. "I don't want to hear anything from you about it, you got it? No explanations, no nothing. You did it, it happened." He found a suitable plank and dragged it over. "Just one thing."

Dear god archers were the goddamn _whiniest_ bunch of people.

"Did Donna agree? Because, sure, I can get over what _you_ said and did-" 

Dick snorted. Clearly not.

"But I thought Donna of all people would have been smarter than that." He shoved the plank under the desk, using a large piece of stone as the pivot point. Grunting as he tested his weight against it, he glanced at Dick. "Well? You gonna say something or just keep ignoring me?" 

Dick bit his tongue, looking at Roy silently. He quirked an eyebrow. 

The archer scoffed at him, taking his silence as classic Wayne stubbornness. "Fine, be a fucking prick about it, see if I care." 

"Oh my _god!"_ Dick whined, scrubbing at his face with his free hand as Roy heaved against the board, wedging it deeper under the desk. "Roy, for god's sake..." 

The archer grunted loudly. 

"Roy!" 

Another loud moan. 

Dick clawed at him, grabbing a handful of costume and yanking. "Roy, goddamnit, would you listen to me for one second?" 

Sighing, the archer released the plank. He thought it over for a long second, eventually turning to Dick expectantly. 

Dick met his gaze. "You want to know the reason I didn't invite you to be a Titan the first time?" he began, licking his lips and taking a few shallow breaths. _Wow_ was he ever getting lightheaded; was probably bleeding out somewhere under the desk, the pressure heavy enough to keep him from bleeding out entirely. "You heard that I didn't want you to be a Titan, that I wanted to start a team with Donna and Dawn and Hank only and relocate to San Francisco as some sort of..." He gestured vaguely. "Super spring break experiment. But you only heard half of what I was saying. I was telling Donna I didn't want you there because I didn't think _you_ would want to be there. You were in the middle of all of _everything_ with Oliver and Artemis and it was none of my business. But I knew if I asked you would come, whether you really wanted to or not. And I... I didn't want to put you in that position. Of having to choose between me and them." 

Roy scoffed, looking away. He flexed his hand, rubbing the pads of his fingers together in thought. "So you just decided to make that decision for me, is that it?" 

Sighing, Dick chewed his lip in guilt. "I do that a lot." 

"What? Decide to run the world?" 

His one-shoulder shrug came off exactly as pathetic as he felt. "Get scared. Get sentimental. Overthink and fuck up perfectly good relationships." 

Roy swallowed. "Yeah, you fucked up, alright." 

"Roy, I should have said something sooner." He paused for more wheezing breaths. "I should have reached out, explained." 

"You still don't get it, do you?" the archer scoffed, abruptly standing. He braced his good shoulder against the board, preparing for another mighty shove. "I didn't want a damn _explanation_ from you, Grayson. Sure, maybe some cliff notes would have been nice." He shoved and the whole desk shifted suddenly, crashing down several more inches. 

Dick gasped, the pressure squeezing the breath from his lungs. He mouthed at the air, breathless and unable to inhale. 

"Shit!" Roy cursed, scrambling to correct the board. He repositioned it and shoved down, lifting the desk up a few precious inches. 

Dick gulped in air greedily, free arm gripping the underside of the furniture. "...'old it," he gasped, wincing and pulling. "Few more. Few more inches..!" 

Roy yelled and pushed down, using his injured arm for more power. 

The thing rose another few inches and Dick quickly yanked his trapped arm free. That freed up a lot of space and he was able to shimmy backward, clumsily pulling himself out from under the desk. 

"You good yet?" Roy grunted, face screwed in pain as he put, just, so much pressure on his bad arm. 

Dick yanked his feet out and the archer promptly collapsed. The cavernous room was filled with their coughs and rasps, Roy hissing in pain and Dick moaning against his very bruised ribs and oxygen-deprived lungs. Shadows formed overhead, figures hearing the commotion and rushing to the hole to investigate. 

"Roy! Dick!" Dinah called from above. She turned to command the other heroes to go and get a rope and ladder. And a flyer if they could find one.

The men downstairs panted, Roy shuffling to Dick's side. Dick rolled over to look at him expectantly. "I wanted an _apology_ you dumbass," the archer chuckled breathlessly. "Not an explanation." He saw blood seep from Dick's side, a sizeable tear in the suit and pointed at it. "Stu's gonna be pissed, you know." 

Dick frowned, glancing down at the wound. Oh yeah, there it was. That blood loss he predicted earlier. He sighed, head falling back. "He really is." 

"You've had that one, what, a year now?" 

"Seven months." 

"Holy shit." 

He smirked mischievously. "I know." 

"You know, I'm glad you didn't ask me to join your little sidekick slumber party." 

"Yeah?" Dick wondered, squinting at him. 

"Yeah. I'm not cut out to be the only person in the room without a fucking death wish." 

Dick glared at him playfully, knowing full well _exactly_ the kind of death wish Roy had - and knowing that Roy was perfectly aware of how intimately familiar he was with the addiction, withdrawal, recovery cycle the archer looped through all those years ago. Caught, Roy at least had the decency to look away, even if he was rolling his eyes and an upturned middle finger got in the way. "Shut up," he muttered grumpily. 

Dick gestured to zip his lips closed, laying back and wincing as the pain in his side started beating at him full force, now that the numbness was wearing off. Roy was right. He was possibly the worst at apologizing for things, ever. Explanations he could dish out day and night. And justifications he had a plethora of, stocked and loaded. But apologies, the actual words of _'I'm sorry'_ , he always seemed to be lacking of. Still, better late than never.

"I'm sorry," he muttered sincerely. For what was left unsaid: For not inviting you. For not telling you. For abandoning you like so many other people have.

Roy knew. "Thought I told you to shut up." 

In their sunlight, Dinah leaned over the edge, peering down at them. "You boys in good enough shape to stand down there?" she asked. 

They looked up, squinting. Roy gave a thumbs up, glancing at Dick. 

"If I have to," Nightwing supplied after a long moment of deciding if he really wanted to stand or be carried out of this hole. Eh, fuck his pride. He hurt. 

"Sounds good," the woman replied, relaying the information. In no time at all, she was climbing a rope to meet them, a flyer floating down gracefully beside her. There wasn't much of a question as to who they were here for. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Dick and Roy stumbled out of the castle, the chilly mountainous air lapping up their sweat. Nightwing leaned on the archer heavily, side wrapped and legs sluggishly obeying his commands to walk. They were ushered the direction of a prepping medical helicopter, the more serious injuries already having been airlifted back to base. 

"You know, I've never been out West," Roy said innocently. 

Dick chuckled against him. "You can come to the Tower any time you like, Roy." 

"Think my ears are still ringing; that could've have been what them people call an _invite_ now could it have?" the archer gasped dramatically. 

Smirking, Dick shoved him roughly.

He laughed at him. "I knew it, I fucking knew it! Knew all I had to do was lay on enough pressure and I'd get you to cave!" 

Dick coughed hoarsely, grimacing. "Ugh, don't say _cave._ Or _pressure."_

"Right, sorry." They continued down the icy stone stairs to the makeshift helipad. "How's about next week?" 

Dick clicked his tongue. "Oooh, I don't know about that. The Titans are having a members-only meeting then." 

"All week?" 

"Yeah, actually. All any time you're available to stop by, oddly enough. Too bad, guess it won't work out." 

Roy made a face. "Well, fine. I see how it is. Guess I'll just have to drop by uninvited at some point. And bring the baby." 

Dick paled visibly. "How old is she by now?" 

"She'll be thirteen months." 

"God, a _toddler_?" 

"Don't worry about it, Dickie. She's almost totally potty trained already. Hardly ever pees on everything anymore." 

"Oh, god."


End file.
